


There's Always More

by craftingkatie



Series: Phosphorescent Blues [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Multi, Panic Attack Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingkatie/pseuds/craftingkatie
Summary: Darcy hopes her trip to Toronto with Jane will be the perfect remedy to her emotional turmoil. When everything goes awry, she finds herself wishing she could see Clint and Natasha just one last time.





	1. Hold on, no I don’t need to talk

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my private hell! Only half joking...  
> I have been actively writing this since May, y'all, and it has utterly wrung me out emotionally.
> 
> And in between all the angsty writing, I got engaged- so you know my year has been a trip.
> 
> This was meant to be the shiny happily ever after for our threesome, but unfortunately, it looks like there's one more story yet to tell. It turns out I'm super not okay with someone magically getting over all of their issues, even if it makes for a happier story.
> 
> I've tagged this Angst with a Happy Ending- and it's mostly true, though their story isn't quite wrapped up yet.
> 
> The next story being the time for healing and reacquaintance, I hope it will be a bit quicker to write and a bit quicker to deliver to A03 and Darcyland.
> 
> Thank you for coming on this journey- and thank you for your encouraging words,
> 
> (and thanks to CatemonsterQ for being the Best of Twins and the Best of Women for letting me take my own time in making this happen- and for being my personal angst cheerleader!)
> 
>  
> 
> As with all of my recent works, this is part of our Twin Challenge to write a story for each song on Glen Phillips album, Swallowed by the New. This song "There's Always More" has both the least amount of lyrics and the most amount of meaning.

Jane thunks her head against the service counter with the kind of echoing thunk that has Darcy worried about the condition of her brain after the impact.   
  
“Look,” Darcy speaks through her teeth, maintaining what she hopes is more of a smile and less of a snarl. “We redeemed our reward points for the car. We called and confirmed our reservation no less than three times. So tell me again where the problem is...”   
  
“We have no more cars.” The lady behind the desk grimaces and braces for an explosion. Darcy wants nothing more than to scream out into the ether and maybe punch something. This is now the fifth thing to go wrong on their “simple” trip to Toronto. A four-day conference and this much headache...   
  
Maybe it was the world telling them they needed to turn around and go back to New York.   
  
“What are our options?” Darcy asks and then thinks better of it, waves her hand as if to erase her words from the dry erase board of life and starts again. “How will we receive our refund and how soon will that be processed?” With that information in hand, she pulls Jane to the side, frantically stabbing at her phone.   
  
“There’s got to be a rideshare service around here. We can just grab a ride into the conference.” Darcy mutters, swiping through her options.   
  
“You and everyone else here.” A man’s voice comes over her shoulder and has Darcy tensing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Y’all are headed to the conference at the Hyatt?” He drawls like the drip of pine sap and it sounds like home but that doesn’t mean he’s safe.   
  
“Maybe.” Darcy grits out. Jane is nose deep in her guidebook; the nerd enjoys buying a guidebook for every city she’s ever traveled to and then updating them when she comes for return trips. She’s lost in her own world and of no help to Darcy.   
  
“Is that Dr. Foster? I’m kinda a huge fan.” He comes out from behind her and sticks out a hand. “Dr. Sutton Reeves. Fanboy and Astrophysicist.”   
  
“Darcy. Intern and Frustrated.” She goes for friendly but reserved.   
  
“It’s only, I’ve got a van coming- nabbed the last one from the rental place down the street. If we were going to the same place we could share.” His offer is accompanied by an ‘aw, shucks’ shrug which is a true facts thing and doesn’t seem affected. She loosens her tension an inch. “Those two over there, the Drs. Smith and Popper, are coming with me.” He points over to a woman and a man by the window who are clearly impatient to leave.   
  
“Oh, is that Dr. Popper? I need to speak to her about her last publication.” Jane catches the last bit of the sentence and follows his point to the woman across the room. “Why are we discussing Dr. Popper?”   
  
“Dr. Reeves here has secured a van and is carpooling with them.” She waves to encompass the three. “He’s invited us to join them.”   
  
“Perfect! That sounds great.” Jane buzzes with excitement. She’s ready to mingle with her fellows and get out of the rental car lobby.   
  
“Great.” Darcy’s on her last fragile nerve and decides to just go with it. She follows as Dr. Reeves leads Jane over to the other passengers. She fiddles with her phone to avoid having to participate in their Science Bonding Ritual. It’s at times like these that she would typically shoot a text off to Clint or Natasha, but that wasn’t a ready option these days.   
  
It would open too many doors and the whole purpose of this Toronto trip was to leave them shut for long enough for Darcy to examine the room she found herself emotionally trapped in. She’s not needed for the conversation and manages to spend the time as they wait stuck inside her own thoughts; a familiar situation for her as of late.   
  
The van Dr. Reeves promised is actually a compact SUV with no third-row seating. She’s squeezed against the window as Jane and Dr. River Popper speak animatedly over something that the other woman discovered or pioneered or named or something sciencey. Darcy ignores them and stares out at the passing city, her hand inside her purse, teasing lightly over the metal of the familiar bracelet. She misses Clint and Natasha like a missing limb yet she still fights for air when she wakes up from nightmares of Clint attacking her. Oh, the complications that come with loving superheroes.   
  
A teeny iota of tension melts from her shoulders as they pull to a stop in the turn around in front of the conference hotel. She piles out of the cramped seat and leads the way to the registration desk. There’s yet another line to stand in but within the half hour, she and Jane are entering their home away from home for the next 4 days. It smells like VoBan vomit absorbent and Darcy really, really does not want to know why. They leave their bags on the dresser and head down to the restaurant for the lunch they weren’t served on the plane.   
  
The Drs. Smith, Popper, and Reeves apparently had the same idea and Jane drags Darcy over to sit with them. Yet again, the urge to text Natasha and Clint overcomes her as she sits listening to the conversation flow directly in front of her. This time she gives into it and pulls up a message to Natasha.   
  
  
  
_ Scientists who only speak in Science are the worst dining companions. _   
  
  
  
_ There are worse people. _ _  
_ _ Do they chew with their mouths open? _   
  
  
  
_ Fair point; they do have table manners. _   
  
  
  
There’s a pause between messages, just long enough for Darcy to dig into her burger, before Natasha responds.   
  
  
  
_ It’s good to hear from you,  _ kotyonok _. _   
  
  
  
Darcy doesn’t know how to respond, hates that guilt and indignation both pull at her gut. She tucks her phone back in her pockets and focuses single-mindedly on clearing her plate of all things edible.   
  
There’s a cocktail hour meet and mingle that Stark is sponsoring. Jane has to make an appearance- and is eager to continue her conversation with Dr. Popper- so she dresses quickly and heads to the lobby. Darcy stays in the room and video chats her new semi-therapist. He may not actually be accredited and he’s certainly non-conventional, but he’s helped her more than anyone thus far. Neither a doctor nor a therapist, his calm demeanor and matter-of-fact acceptance of the events as they happened has helped her tackle her feelings.   
  
She’s journaling more. Not about her nightmares as her old therapist had suggested but about the conflicting feelings, she experiences, unwrapping all of the things that hang her up in her journey. Darcy owns up to the guilt she felt over having not reached out to Natasha since she last saw her. Then she explores the way she got her dander up in the same breath because she told Tasha she would need time and how dare she put pressure on Darcy with her ‘it’s good to hear from you’ and...   
  
Pages are filled up by the time she finally puts the pen down and wipes a few stray tears from her cheeks. The clock on the bedside stand reads past midnight and Janey should be back up by now. Her first talk is at 10 am and Jane needs her beauty rest.   
  
With a sigh of resignation, Darcy puts her bra back on and slips on her shoes so that she looks somewhat presentable. She travels down to the larger ballroom that played host to the cocktail hour and sees that most of the lights are out and the staff is cleaning up. There’s a bead of panic that flutters in her chest as she ventures deeper into the darkened space, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. Instead, Darcy scans the room, noting the 6 staff members cleaning off tables and stacking chairs on wheeled carts.   
  
And there, in the corner at the only table that had yet to be cleared and surrounded by carts of chairs as if it were a children’s fort, sat Jane, Dr. Reeves, and Dr. Popper. They all half leaned on the table in the way that drunk people do when they feel the very pulse of gravity against their bones. Darcy assumes that Dr. Smith must have smartly retired to his room earlier in the evening.   
  
“Party’s over, y’all.” Darcy greets them with a clap. “These fine people are too nice to kick you out, but they’ve got to clean everything up and you’re gumming up the works.” She makes her way to Jane and helps her friend to her feet. “C’mon Dr. Foster. You’ve got an early morning.”   
  
She pauses long enough to make sure the other two are able to stand and walk without falling and breaking themselves before tugging Janey away to the elevators. Jane calls a drunken farewell over her shoulder that has Darcy wishing she could have covered her ears and has the other two scientists laughing so hard they had to lean on one another to keep upright.   
  
Nerds.   
  
They only stumble once on their slow progress back to their room and it feels like the trip takes them five forevers, but finally, Darcy has Jane in the shower with her pajamas laid out on the counter. She sets the small alarm clock/radio doohickey on a soothing creek soundscape and dims the lights.   
  
Her ploy works. Jane comes out of the bathroom with a towel turban, yawning into her fist and climbs directly into her tiny bed.

 

~~

 

The morning finds Jane growling into her toothbrush as Darcy plies her with a travel mug of coffee. Her tiny travel coffee maker- Old Reliable- had turned out to be less than reliable when it shot out sparks instead of the heavenly brew. Darcy had had to retreat to the front desk to get the breaker flipped for their room and had grabbed a coffee from the tiny hotel cafe, putting it into Jane’s favorite travel mug. Her scientist had fallen asleep against the dresser while Darcy had been gone and hadn’t been thrilled to be shaken awake. Or maybe it was the tumble to the carpet upon awakening that had been the issue.   
  
In any case, Jane was a mess and Darcy was a ball of nerves. They were one ‘what else could go wrong?’ away from a fiery explosion. 

 

Jane leads the way to her room, Darcy lugging both their bags and looking wearier than Jane. She swears Jane had to have some kind of magic button she turned on when it was time to impress people and then flipped off when she could go back to sciencing in grubby clothes.   
  
Jane is very much On.   
  
Darcy double checks the mic set up while Jane pulls up her presentation on the screen behind the dais. Once Jane was hooked up and ready, Darcy fades into the background, ready to jump in if Jane’s remote stopped working but otherwise, in charge of absolutely nothing.   
  
She thinks she might have dozed off once or twice as people filed in and took their seats. When she finally snaps to, it’s when the audience is politely clapping and shuffling to the exit. A brave few surge towards the dais to capture Jane’s attention. Darcy wraps cords, replaces equipment and finally shoves through the crowd to announce Jane needs to head to her next engagement. Which might be a bed or it might be a cafe but it’s definitely not staying in here.   
  
They’re met by Dr. Popper in the hallway, who calls their names with an effusive cheerfulness that grates Darcy’s last frayed nerve. “Jane! Darcy!” The scientist moves through the crowd, an amorphous shape in a diaphanous muumuu. She shimmers and the cheer and the shimmering and the headache beating behind Darcy’s eyes have her squinting at the ground as Jane greets her new friend.   
  
“River!” Jane practically falls into the shimmery arms raised for a hug. Darcy swears she hears Jane snore after the hug goes on for a beat too long.   
  
Dr. Popper- if Jane was on a first name basis with her, did Darcy have the right to call her River?- frowned over at Darcy. “Should we coffee?” she asks in an exaggerated whisper. It has the intended effect, and Jane leans back blinking.   
  
“Yes, yes we should so coffee.” Darcy agrees immediately and hooks an arm through Jane’s. “Can we go out somewhere? Is there a cafe out there that isn’t in here with the people and the lights and the...?” Darcy trails off as River and Jane both start giggling and nodding.   
  
“We should definitely leave the hotel.” Jane agrees and leads the charge towards the front lobby. The crowds part for her and Darcy follows in her wake, Dr. River Popper just behind her.   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
There’s a coffee shop two blocks from the hotel that seems to be a local corporate chain. It’s got all the hallmarks of a place trying too hard to be hip, but the smooth aroma of roasted toasted yummy coffee hits her as they walk in and Darcy decides to forgive them their attempts at hipster. They join the fast moving line and it seems to Darcy that a few of the science types must have followed them to the coffee haven. Four guys in slouchy cargo pants and hoodies join the line behind them and they give off the air of interns tasked with picking up too many cups of coffee for their department chairs, sour looks, and grumbly frowns. She makes a note to watch and see if they need help between them- she’s been there and carrying ten coffees when you’ve only two hands is not a great feeling.   
  
Darcy’s coffee is up first and she grabs it at a run to claim the last free table on the small patio outside of the coffee shop. She is sitting and enjoying the first warming sip as River and Jane join her at the rickety metal table.   
  
“This is just what I needed.” Jane moans into her second gulp. River nods contentedly but doesn’t voice anything other than an ‘mmm’ in response.   
  
Darcy is considering raising her cup in a toast to the healing powers of fresh air and caffeine when she feels the muzzle of a gun against her ear. (And really, the fact that she recognizes the cold, unforgiving metal as a gun immediately should probably concern her more than it does). She freezes, cup midway to her mouth, eyes wide as she looks between River and Jane who are both staring wide-eyed at the person behind her.   
  
Three other men- those she had mistaken for interns- move in to surround their table as the one behind her finally spoke. “You will get up. You will come with us calmly, or a bullet goes through this one’s head.” Darcy wants to shake her head or protest or…anything other than remaining frozen. Instead, she watches as Jane and River stand slowly, eyes never leaving the man behind her. The goons flank them and they escort the two doctors from the patio.   
  
“Stand up.” the man rasps. Darcy moves to put her cup down on the table, but the muzzle digs violently into her scalp when she moves. “Do not make any moves other than to stand. You are unimportant to our mission and I would love nothing more than to leave you here.” He’s spoken so low and at such a conversational tone that no one in the patio has even looked their direction. She considers screaming out, making a scene, but worries for Jane's safety if she is taken along with Dr. Popper. Darcy stands up slowly and doesn’t try to jerk away when the man loops his arm through hers and escorts her slowly after River and Jane.   
  
They all round a corner to find a large white van idling at the curb. The three goons force Jane and River into the van, but Darcy spots a police vehicle at the other end of the road. Without giving it much thought, she screams out “FIRE!” as she throws her coffee at the man holding her arm. She waves her arms and continues screaming “HELP! FIRE!” as River and Jane add their voices to the fray, recognizing Darcy must have seen an opportunity for assistance. She meets eyes with the officer in the driver's seat, who flips on his lights and sirens as he lurches towards the van. There are pedestrians now, coming to be a looky-loo and see the potential fire, drawn in by the sirens.   
  
She has all of thirty seconds to see her salvation in reach before there’s a loud thump and an explosion of pain in her head. The world tilts, the ground rushing to meet her face. Everything goes bright white and then fades to black.   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
Pain fills her awareness when she next regains consciousness. It radiates from her shoulder and she tries to rotate her arm to relieve the pressure, only to find her arms firmly secured behind her. “Darcy?” a fierce whisper cuts through her pain and she blinks open her eyes to see Jane, similarly tied up across from her. They are sat on a dirt floor, both secured to pipes that lead into the concrete walls. There’s one bare lightbulb far above them that lends just enough light to the room for Darcy to be glad she can’t examine the darker corners.   
  
“Jane?” Darcy belatedly responds. “How long was I out?”   
  
“At least four hours, maybe more.” Jane sounds worried and Darcy tries to reassure her with a smile.   
  
“No worries, Boss Lady. I’m fine.” The world tilts beneath her and her stomach lurches towards her throat. “Then again, maybe I’m not fine. It feels like the world is spinning.”   
  
“You hit the pavement pretty hard and he slammed you into the van. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a concussion.” Jane predicts.   
  
Darcy swallows once, twice, then steadies her breathing against the pain and panic. “Where’s Dr. Popper?”   
  
“I don’t know.” Jane’s face goes dark. “I think she was their goal and we just got in the way. They tied us both in here and drug her away.”   
  
“Shit.” Darcy sums up.   
  
“Shit.” Jane echoes. Darcy wiggles, testing her bonds but they held fast.   
  
“Any slack in your rope?” She asks hopefully.   
  
“Not an inch,” Jane glowers at the door. “The assholes.”   
  
Darcy leans her head back against the pipe and focuses on the positive. They aren’t dead yet. They may not have been the target but they had not been immediately disposed of once they reached this hideout. That shows a reason for hope; if they could just stay alive long enough for someone to report them missing. For the love of all things Science, she was retiring from her life of Whatever-the-hell-Jeopardy-Friendly if they were ever rescued. Effective immediately, she resigned.   
  
She may have said that last part out loud.   
  
“Really? Now may not be the best time for that.” Jane grouses. But she also was smiling a tiny bit when Darcy prises open an eye to look at her friend. Darcy smiles back but closes her eyes again. “Darcy, you can’t fall asleep. You have to stay with me, okay?”   
  
“Sure thing. I’m awake.” She mumbles halfheartedly. Everything hurts and even keeping her eyes open was a Herculean task. Even as Jane talks frantically, begging her to respond, she slips into sleep.   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
Time has passed, she knows that, feels it in her core and in the grumbling of her empty stomach, but the light bulb is just as bright as it had been when she was last awake. Shame heats her face as she realizes she has relieved herself in her sleep, her jeans wet and stuck to her thighs. She shoots a glance over to see that Jane is asleep, slumped back against her own pipe, mouth open. Darcy tries to shift and nearly cries out at the pain her shoulder. She hisses a breath through her teeth and shifts more carefully. Uncomfortable does not even begin to cover her situation.   
  
A door slams somewhere in the hall outside of their room and she flinches at the sudden noise. The gray door flies open and Dr. Popper is thrown unceremoniously inside. Before Darcy can get more than a passing glimpse of the hall beyond their room, the door closes again and the stomping boots retreat back the way they had come.   
  
Jane still sleeps and River hasn’t moved from where she landed. She sends up a fervent prayer that the woman is not dead as she calls out, “Dr. Popper? River? Can you hear me?”   
  
River rolls towards her voice with a groan and Darcy tries not to focus on the spots of blood now marring the flowing top River wears. “Hey, there you are.” She soothes as River met her eyes. The woman looked like she’d been put in the ring with a heavyweight boxer. Both eyes are swollen near closed. “Can you move?” River gives a short nod and then crawls slowly over to where Darcy sits. “That’s great. You’re doing great.” Darcy cheers her on in an effort to cover up the pained grunts River made as she moved.   
  
When the other woman pulls herself up against the wall next to Darcy, she quietly asked, “Can you untie me?”   
  
River moaned and held out her hands. They were bloody and mangled, bent in ways Darcy wished she had never seen. “Refused to help.” River bit out through her bloodied lip.   
  
“Good. Fuck them.” Darcy hisses out with a surge of anger. Who the fuck were these people? “What do they want?”   
  
“My research.” River sighs. “They want to weaponize my findings, sell it to the highest bidder and start a few wars for fun.”   
  
“Lovely.” Darcy echoes River’s sigh. River leans her head against Darcy’s shoulder and lets out a soft sob. Darcy tenses, but River wasn’t on the side that was throbbing with every heartbeat even now. “We’re going to be okay. Someone has reported us missing and even now they’re out looking for us. Jane’s backed by a billionaire who sticks his nose in all sorts of things he probably shouldn’t. I’m sure he’ll send someone out to fetch us then scold us for being late to work on Monday.” River huffs a laugh into her shoulder and shakes her head.   
  
“I hope you’re right.” Darcy wishes she could wrap an arm around Dr. Popper. She needs to give comfort just as bad as she needs to be comforted. Her words had come from her hope that every possible resource would be used to track them down.   
  
She pictures Clint and Natasha, pictures them searching for her, breaking into this building, saving them… Darcy blinks away tears. It could happen, but a small part of her remembers vividly how she had pushed them away. They might not even notice that her radio-silence was because she had been kidnapped, not because she was working through her issues. A small part of her wishes she had texted Natasha back the other night.   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
At some point, while they slept, three water bottles were tossed into the cell with them. Darcy awakes to River awkwardly holding the bottle up to her lips and begging her to wake up long enough to drink. She swallows greedily, not minding that half winds up dribbling down her front.   
  
“Thanks.” She gasps out when River pulls the bottle away. River nods and begins to make her way across the room to Jane. The water sloshes around as River clasps it between her arms but she makes it to Jane with a half-full bottle. Jane gulps down the water with a moan.   
  
River makes it to the middle of the room where two more bottles sit. She twists off the cap of another with her teeth and drinks her fill before digging a tiny indention with her foot to place the open bottle in. She scootches back to the wall and tells them about the time she went camping with her cousins and nearly stumbled upon a bear. Darcy falls into a dreamless sleep halfway through the story.   
  
~   
  
“I’m hungry,” Jane announces this to the room at large and Darcy cracks open an eye to glare.   
  
“Yeah, us too.” Darcy near growls. She barely resists the urge to throw out a “No shit, Sherlock.” …Barely. She’s also thirsty and numb and tired and….   
  
“I want a burrito with extra salsa, hold the beans.” Jane licks her lips.   
  
“Really, Jane?” Darcy wishes she had something to throw, or a hand to clasp to her stomach.   
  
“God, me too.” River agrees from where she leans against the wall, a few feet from Darcy. “Steak burrito with fajita veggies and queso.”   
  
“For the love of Thor, are y’all really doing this right now?” The other two ladies just stared at her. “We all know nachos are the best vehicle for cheese and salsa in any case.” She grumbles.   
  
“First thing when we get out, I’m having Tony order catering for 20 people just for us and we will eat until we can’t button our pants,” Jane promises. “Margaritas too. We deserve a drink or ten.”   
  
“I’m down,” Darcy says, and even River nods. They allow silence to fall over the room and Darcy wonders if the other two are dreaming of food. She certainly is, creating larger and even more complicated orders of her favorites. It’s a torture of its own, and the novelty of imagining food soon wears off. “How long have we been here?” she asks finally, breaking the silence.   
  
“Three days?” Jane ventures.   
  
“Maybe four? There weren’t windows where they took me but the guards changed pretty regularly.” River offers. They’re down to one water bottle and though they all eye it from time to time, they’ve been rationing it slowly.   
  
“Did I ever tell you about the time my uncle spiked the cheese dip at the PTA meeting?” Darcy asks. She spins them a tale about an uncle she doesn’t even have and a school she never attended. The details get more and more ridiculous but at this point, who cares. She just wants to pass the time. She talks until she sees that River is asleep and her mouth is too dry to continue talking.   
  
“I’ve tried praying to him.” Jane breaks the silence.   
  
“Praying to who?” Darcy’s brain is moving at a snail’s pace and she’s confused by Jane’s confession.   
  
“Thor.” Jane blushes. “I tried praying to Thor, even threw a few to Heimdall.”   
  
“Couldn’t hurt,” Darcy says. “I’ll throw a few that way too.”   
  
Instead, she prays she will get to see Clint and Natasha again.

  
  


~~

  
The sound of thunder, rumbling deep and ominous through the ground, wakes them. Jane looks hopeful towards the door, her eyes cartoon wide.   
  
“It could just be a bad storm.” Darcy cautions, even as her own hope rises.   
  
What sounds like an explosion rocks the hall outside of their room and Jane lets out a whoop. “The cavalry has come!”   
  
They hear a faint “Clear!” and then the door blows inwards and Iron Man hovers in the doorway.   
  
“Nobody steals my scientist.” Tony grouses as the face plate comes up. “Who said you could get kidnapped on your first official outing as a Stark employee?”   
  
Hysteria bubbles like bile in Darcy’s throat and she barks out a laugh. “You’re just worried she will ask for a hazard bonus.”   
  
Tony shoots her a smirk as he heads over to work on Jane’s bonds. “You, I’ll deal with later. So mouthy.”   
  
Darcy doesn’t have time to wonder if Clint had come as well; she hears him yelling out a frustrated “Tony?!” from the hall beyond the destroyed door.   
  
“In here!” Tony calls over his shoulder. He’s cradling Jane’s wrist in his hand and helping her stretch out her shoulders carefully. She wonders if Jane will be able to stand. She’s the least injured in the room, but they have been tied up and immobile for a number of days.   
  
Clint appears at the door and Darcy’s eyes fill with tears. He only has eyes for her, immediately striding across the distance between them. Her breath comes short and fast, her bravado slipping away and the panic- relief, fear, love, exhaustion- finally slipping out. “Untie me,” she begs through the tears clouding her vision. “Please, please just untie me.” Her facade of control has snapped and she wants nothing more than to be free to move her arms, free to wipe the tears from her face.   
  
He’s kneeling in front of her, whispering her name and reaching out to gently undo her bonds. He’s murmuring something comforting as he works, or perhaps he’s naming off the parts of his bow. She can’t focus on his words but instead focuses on the feeling slowly returning to her arms. Darcy bites off a scream as her shoulder grinds when she moves her right arm to lie in her lap.   
  
Clint gently ghosts fingers over her neck, across her shoulder, down her arm. “I don’t feel any breaks, but I think you’ve got a fracture somewhere in your shoulder. Try not to move it for me, okay?” Darcy nods and is distracted by Jane across the room.   
  
Tony is sweeping Jane into his arms, even as she protests. “I’m gonna get her up to Thor.” He addresses the room at large before directing his attention to Dr. Popper, who is leaning against the far wall, staring into the middle distance. “I’ll be back for you, okay?” He waits for a moment but River doesn’t seem to hear him, so he uses his suit to glide out of the room with Jane. Clint sweeps a piece of hair off her forehead and brings her attention back to him.   
  
“I’d like to try and carry you out if you think that would…” There’s a hesitance there and Darcy grimaces in response.   
  
“It’ll hurt but I want to get out of here, Clint.” Darcy puts her good arm on his shoulder and struggles up to her knees. She’s wobbly and unsure, all her muscles slack instead of responding as she wants. He scoops her up and stands fluidly, carrying her out of the room as Tony comes back in for Dr. Popper. There’s a staircase, a never-ending lineup of gray, cold concrete walls, and then blessed sunshine on her face. There’s a big jet in the field next to the building they had been held in; the shining black beauty of a machine that had carried in the cavalry. They seem to be in the middle of nowhere- or at least the middle of somewhere covered in fields and sparse on snoopy neighbors.    
  
Thor hovers over Jane as he wheels her up the ramp, strapped into a gurney. Tony buzzes past, carrying Dr. Popper to a matching gurney waiting at the end of the ramp. He straps her in and wheels her up the ramp behind Jane. Darcy uses her good hand to grasp at Clint’s shoulder to get his attention.   
  
“No restraints.” Darcy tries to insert strength into her assertion, but she fears it comes out as more of a plea. She can’t put into words the dread she feels, looking at the waiting gurney- knowing they’ll strap her down just as they had Jane and River. Knowing still that it was for her safety.   
  
Clint meets her eyes and gives an easy, calm grin. “No restraints, kitten, but we have to look you over. How about if I put you in a seat near me and I clean you up a little before we get back to the medical team?”   
  
“Yes, please.” Anything would be easier to stand than being strapped to a gurney for the flight back home. He carries her up the ramp, straight past the gurney and to a cluster of seats. Clint sets her down as gently as possible but she’s still holding her arm to her chest and grimacing when he steps back. When she finally lets out the hissed breath of pain, he turns to address Tony.   
  
“Can you take over piloting?” When Tony agrees and moves past them to take the pilot’s seat,  Clint jogs easily to the ramp and pulls up the empty gurney. It appears it was a small team mission to rescue them; only Thor, Tony, and Clint are aboard the jet as the ramp retracts and Tony readies to fly.   
  
Darcy wonders if the men who held them survived the Avengers coming to retrieve them; wonders if Thor was busy taking care of them as Tony and Clint carried them back to the jet. As she’s lost in thought, Clint reaches out and lightly grasps her left wrist, the touch shocking her and making her jump. She hisses out a breath at the arrow of pain and Clint holds his hands up. “Sorry, I won’t…” He’s standing up, ready to give her space.   
  
“Wait, no.” She huffs a breath. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m a little jumpy.”   
  
“Fuck!” He curses with a vehemence that actually makes her smile. He busies himself pulling a triangle bandage from the first aid kit under his seat. She reaches out to touch him on his shoulder until he looks up at her.   
  
“Thanks for coming to get me.” It’s a wobbly smile, a little watery in its delivery but she thinks he understands.   
  
“Of course,” comes his gruff reply. He stands up with the bandage in hand. “I’m going to make this into a sling for your arm. It’s best we do not move that shoulder until we know for sure what’s going on.”   
  
Darcy sniffs and nods. “I’m ready. Sling me.” He gently wraps the triangle around her elbow and ties it at her neck. She’s thrilled to find the fabric takes over the weight of her arm and provides some relief to the throbbing pain that has been echoing in her chest the entire time she sat in that room.   
  
This time when he reaches for her left hand, she sees him coming and doesn’t jump. He cradles her wrist in his hand, examining the angry skin where the rope had dug into her. “I’m sorry it took so long for us to get to you. We’ve had boots on the ground for two days but didn’t get the information we needed until earlier today.” His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out to check the display. “Tash is going to meet us in New York.”   
  
“Tash? Where is she?” Darcy asks.   
  
“She was on a mission; complete communications blackout but I left a few messages where she might find them. She’s been tying up loose ends since early this morning so she could meet us at home- or come help kick ass if it came to it.” Clint shoots back a quick message and tucks the phone back in his pocket. “We’re about a half hour out and then they’ll wheel you off to medical to see about your shoulder.”   
  
“Will you come with me? You and Tash?” She wants them there, suddenly desperately wants both of them by her side in the face of medical teams and potential questioning over her experiences.   
  
“Whatever you need.” He agrees. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, mindful of her wrapped arm. “Rest for a minute; we’re almost home, kitten.” Darcy allows herself the luxury of leaning back against Clint, watching Thor speaking with Jane and holding court with River while Tony pilots them back home.   
  
  
  
~~   
  
  
  



	2. Far gone and the words are too small

When they land at Stark Tower, they’re greeted by a bevy of medical professionals. They whisk River off immediately and allow Thor to follow Jane’s gurney. Two of them come up the loading ramp and Clint goes to meet them. They gesture towards a gurney and Darcy tries to push herself up to stand. She’s not sure she could verbalize why exactly she was against the idea of being strapped down to the wheeled bed, but everything inside her is fighting against panic at the thought.   
  
Then Natasha appears at the ramp pushing a shiny wheelchair. She ignores the cluster of men as she wheels around them and straight to Darcy.   
  
“You are an angel.” Darcy greets Natasha with a grateful smile.   
  
“And you,  _ kotyonok _ , are near delirious.” Natasha locks the wheelchair wheels and approaches Darcy. “Come, let’s get you seen to.” Darcy manages a quick stand and pivot with her help, before collapsing in the chair. Natasha pulls up next to Clint and the medical team. Clint runs a hand down her hair as the team attaches some scanner to her finger. She leans into the touch and it doesn’t escape her that ‘ _ safe _ ’ is the first thing that comes to mind with Natasha and Clint right there beside her.   
  
As a group, they wheel her to an elevator and whisk her to a room. There’s an embarrassing moment when she needs to strip down and can’t quite manage with her arm but then Natasha steps in with an almost clinical detachment to help get her out of her soiled garments and into a very flattering hospital gown. Oh, joy.   
  
The staff ushers Clint and Natasha from the room, assuring Darcy they can visit as soon as Darcy is settled in after a few tests. She’s x-rayed, poked, prodded, and interviewed briefly about their experience in Canada. They hook her up to an IV of fluids before allowing her small sips from a water bottle.   
  
Finally, she is left alone in a sterile room with beeping machines and a tiny water bottle to sip from. There’s a light knock on the door and Clint and Natasha enter together.   
  
She feels a wave of something akin to shyness wash over her at the sight of them standing there. “Hey,” she waves with a smile.   
  
“How are you feeling?” Clint steps right through any awkwardness to approach her bed.   
  
“Just peachy,” She snarks and he laughs. Clint sits on her bed, facing her but not crowding her. Natasha crosses the room to grab a chair on the other side of her bed.   
  
“We’re told they’ll have the results of your x-ray soon,” Natasha says as she settles in.   
  
“That’s good news. They didn’t want to give me pain meds until they knew more about what was happening with my shoulder and if the goon squad drugged us with anything.” Darcy grimaces. Clint’s improvised bandage had been replaced with a legitimate sling but the throbbing remained.   
  
When silence falls, Darcy squirms in it. “I’m sorry for-” she cuts herself off. That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say. “I know it hasn’t been easy lately, and I’m glad you are both here.” She finishes and would shrug but that’s not an action she can do without crying.   
  
“That sounds like the shock talking,” Natasha comments idly.   
  
“You know that we will always come when you need us, Darce.” Clint shoots a glare over at Natasha. He lays a hand gently on her knee. “Whatever you need.”   
  
“She has asked us to maintain a distance,” Natasha chides gently, holding herself still in the chair.   
  
“Fair point.” Darcy concedes and grabs at Clint’s hand before he can remove it from her leg. “But, in light of the extenuating circumstances and if you don’t mind terribly that I’m definitely using you, I would feel much better if you both would stay close. It was…the way we left things was one of the things I regretted most when I thought that I’d never leave that room again. Seeing Clint come through that door was such a damn miracle.” She examines her lap, trying to find the words to say. “I’m not saying everything is magically better, but I need to feel safe now more than I need anything.” Natasha is searching her face for something, but Darcy has no more words to give her. Instead, she holds her hand out towards Natasha. She’s relieved when the other woman sits forward to take her hand.   
  
Darcy blushes through a smile when Natasha presses a chaste kiss to her palm and Clint squeezes her knee. “Whatever you need.” Natasha echoes Clint’s words. It’s probably not the most healthy thing but right then, all Darcy wants is to feel safe and whole.   
  
Clint turns on the tiny television and sets it to a home improvement channel. The staff bustles in and changes out Darcy’s fluid bag with a new one. Natasha and Clint keep up a steady stream of snark as they go through another two episodes of “You Don’t Deserve a Beach House.”   
  
  
~   
  
  
The doctor confirms that Darcy has fractured her clavicle. “The good news,” she says with a far-too-cheery smile, “is that the position they tied you in allowed the bones to set in their proper alignment. Malunion is always a concern with fractures like this, but I believe we can keep you in the sling until it heals.”   
  
“How long until it heals?” Clint has taken over in questioning the medical team and Darcy is perfectly okay with that.   
  
“We’re looking at 4-6 weeks of her having minimal mobility, and then twice that in physical therapy working on getting her shoulder strength back to where it was. No heavy lifting, Darcy. You have these nice folks do all the hard work for you.” The doctor hasn’t stopped smiling the entire time she’s been in the room. Natasha is running cool fingers up and down Darcy’s left forearm, distracting her from any frustration she might feel towards the smiley woman.   
  
“Will she need to stay here overnight?”   
  
“Well,” The doctor pauses to consider. “We do want to get this last bag of fluids in her and she will have to ease into eating, but as long as there’s somebody to help her she should be fine to leave.”   
  
“Great, thank you.” Clint turns from the doctor to return to the bed and it’s such an obvious dismissal that both Darcy and the doctor are left with their mouths hanging open in response. Natasha squeezes Darcy’s hand and stands up to walk the doctor out to the hallway, asking her own questions in a hushed voice.   
  
“Do you want to go home?” Clint asks Darcy as he returns to his seat on the bed beside her. She shakes her head in the negative. She just got settled and she doesn’t particularly want to leave the Tower. “Do you want to stay in here?” Again, she shakes her head. He sighs and scrubs a hand down the back of his head to rest on his neck. “Tash and I… we have a suite in the Tower. You could come stay with us tonight?”   
  
Darcy is nodding before he even finishes his question, then bites her lip and stops. Is that what she wants? She nods once more.   
  
Clint huffs a laugh. “I’m going to need you to say words here, kitten.”   
  
“Yes, please.” Darcy answers.   
  
“Okay, then. Good.” He stands and kisses her forehead gently. “Let me go see what we need to do to get you settled in our room for the night.”   
  
“Can you ask about pain meds too?” She asks as he heads to the door.   
  
“Sure thing,” and with that, she’s alone in the room. Darcy leans her head back on the pillow and tries to get comfortable, a near impossible task. With the room clear and the only noise being the background murmurs of the television, she’s suddenly aware of how very ripe she smells. Natasha and Clint are saints for putting up with this stench. She’ll need to somehow manage a bath; there’s no way she can continue on like this.   
  
The door opens and Natasha enters carrying a steaming Styrofoam cup. “First we get some broth in you and then they’ll bring in some pain meds. Clint is working on getting all the information we will need to get you home tonight.”   
  
“That’s great.” Darcy accepts the cup. “Mmm, broth. My favorite.” She means it sarcastically but that one sip is almost heaven. Natasha cautions her to go slow, so she nurses the cup of broth for a good 15 minutes. In that time, Clint has secured a wheelchair and left to go grab clothes from her apartment. Ain’t nobody wants to spend the night in a hospital gown.   
  
She’s finally allowed pain medication and is bundled into the wheelchair for the trip to their room. “Hey, where’re Jane and River?” Darcy asks as Natasha pushes her from her room.   
  
“Jane has been released. River will be with us overnight.” the nurse manning the singular desk answers her. Darcy wonders if Tony has them on call 24/7 or if they fill in in other departments until a medical emergency comes up. Hopefully, she won’t ever have to revisit this floor and find out.   
  
“Jane is staying in Thor’s suite,” Natasha confirms.   
  
Darcy wishes she could text her friend. “We don’t have our phones anymore. I can’t text her.” Her thoughts aren’t exactly floating away from her, but it suddenly seems very important and very sad that she can’t communicate with Jane.   
  
“I’m not sure what happened to your belongings but we can check into getting you a new phone tomorrow, _ kotyonok _ .” Natasha soothes as they board the elevator. “She’s probably sleeping now in any case.” Darcy hums her agreement and watches the numbers light up on the elevator display.   
  
The apartment that Clint and Natasha share is not overly decorated. In fact, it barely looks lived in, save for a few jackets hanging on a rack by the front door. Natasha wheels her into a sitting area and pauses.   
  
“I need to bathe. I smell.” Darcy breathes out in a rush before she can overthink it.   
  
“A sponge bath or full immersion?” Natasha asks.   
  
“A full bath. I haven’t felt clean in far too long.” Darcy answers and Natasha wheels her down a short hall to a large bedroom with an attached bath. Inside the gleaming white space are a huge jetted tub and a glassed-in separate shower stall. “Whoa, this is huge.”   
  
“Tony tends to request the biggest and the best when he redesigns spaces.” Natasha shrugs. She starts the taps in the tub, adjusting the temperature until she’s satisfied. Then she turns to grab a washcloth and body wash for Darcy to use. Natasha even sets up a pile of towels on the counter. All the while, Darcy watches her move smoothly from one side of the bathroom to the other.   
  
When the tub is mostly full, Natasha turns off the taps and finally stands still, facing Darcy. “Will you help me?” Darcy asks. “Please?” She knows Natasha well enough; knows the woman won’t break any perceived boundaries until and unless Darcy steps through them first. Darcy isn’t naive enough to think she could muscle her way through this alone- and moreover, a part of her craves the connection with something safe and familiar. For now, both Clint and Natasha read as safe and familiar and home and she needs that.   
  
“Yes.” Natasha helps her out of the chair and perches her on the edge of the tub to untie the back of the gown. The gown is tossed over to the corner; the sling is placed next to the towels on the counter. Darcy turns to place her feet inside the tub while Natasha braces her on her good side. She is finally able to slide into the warm water with a sigh of relief. The water washes over her and she gives in to the need to just lean back against the tub and breathe. Sure fingers work their way through her hair and pull it back from her face. “Here, let’s get you clean and then I will wash your hair.”   
  
Darcy takes the sudsy washcloth from Natasha and works on running it over every surface of skin she can awkwardly reach. She doesn’t protest when Natasha takes over for her, asking her to shift as needed. At Natasha’s direction, she dunks her hair in the water, coming up slowly without the aid of two arms. The shampoo surrounds her with the scent of lavender and honey; Natasha’s fingernails massage the soap into her scalp. As much as she trusts Natasha, Darcy keeps her eyes squeezed shut for fear of dripping soap suds. When Natasha steps away from the tub, Darcy turns her head to follow the noise of her retreat but keeps her eyes squeezed shut.   
  
“Lean your head back,” Natasha says as she returns to the side of the tub. The tap is turned on low and Darcy hears the sound of a container being filled with water. Natasha places a hand on Darcy’s forehead and pours a warm cascade of water down Darcy’s hair, keeping the soap from dripping in her face. Over and again, the water pours down until, she assumes, the suds are finally rinsed clear. Natasha squeezes another product into her hair and uses those lovely fingernails to work it through her hair; the honey scent is stronger now. Darcy keeps her eyes closed and tries to let her mind go blank.   
  
A throat clears in the door and only Natasha’s hands on her left shoulder and neck keep her from flailing and falling deeper into the water. “I, uh, brought her back some clothes. Even her robe.” Clint announces when Darcy turns to meet his gaze.   
  
“I’ll grab her robe if you’ll help her get out” Natasha stands and moves past Clint before he answers. He grabs a towel from the counter and holds it in front of him. Darcy manages to awkwardly get to her knees, then uses her left hand to push herself to stand in the tub. She’s shaky and even through the fog of medication, she feels a stab of pain at the movement. Then Clint is there, his hands wrapping the towels around her, picking her up and swinging her out onto the bathmat.   
  
Clint keeps her steady with one arm wrapped around her back and brushes the hair out of her face with his other hand. “Hey there, kitten. Feeling better after your bath?”   
  
“Definitely.” She confirms with a grin.   
  
“Can you stand for me?” He asks, taking a hesitant step back, his hand hovering to catch her if needed.   
  
Darcy wobbles but maintains her stance. “I think I’ve got it.”   
  
“Perfect.” He kneels before her and drags the soft towel up and down each leg, brushes across her stomach and up her chest. When he stands and wraps the towel around her shoulders, she holds it closed with one hand. Her legs are shaking with the effort of keeping upright.   
  
Natasha returns with her robe before she has to give in and ask Clint to help her to the wheelchair. Together, they carefully replace the towel with her robe and return her arm to its sling.   
  
“Oh!” the word rips from Darcy as her legs give out, and that’s the only warning they get before she’s collapsing against Clint. He sweeps her up into his arms.   
  
“I think it’s definitely time we get her in bed, Tash,” Clint says as he settles Darcy more firmly in his hold. Natasha nods and head’s out to the bedroom ahead of them. She has pulled back the covering and is stacking up pillows against the headboard as they follow.   
  
“You’ll want to sleep propped up, almost sitting, with a pillow to help support your sling,” Natasha comments as Clint sets her down on the bed. Darcy moves back against the pillows and Natasha helps arrange a pillow beneath her injured shoulder, keeping it supported but not pushing against it. Clint pulls the covers up over her, kissing her forehead, literally tucking her in. She wonders briefly where they will sleep and if there’s even another bed here and if they’ll stay in the room with her, but her thoughts float away from her and she falls into a fitful sleep.   
  
  
  
~   
  
  
  
Pain wakes her up before her brain is ready to surface. Darcy had not dreamed at all, instead falling into a deep sleep almost immediately. Her body must have needed the sleep, but now it definitely needs more pain medication. She gives in to the fact she will have to move to acquire the pills and opens her eyes.   
  
The room is lit by one softly glowing lamp on the other side of the bed. There’s a light on in the hall beyond the closed bedroom door but there isn’t a window in the bedroom, so she’s not sure exactly what time it is- and she has no phone she can pull out to check.   
  
Clint is seated beside the bed, legs propped up on the mattress, his head back against the chair back, dozing in the awkward position. Darcy stifles a laugh and shifts to try and sit up fully. She focuses on mourning the lack of a camera with such a picture perfect moment to torment Clint with later, rather than the pressure and pain in her shoulder.   
  
He’s on his feet and hovering over her before she gets fully settled. “How’re you doin’?” his voice is gruff with sleep and the familiarity of it thrums in her blood.   
  
“Need more meds, I think.” Darcy breathes out. Her stomach lets out a gurgled protest. “And maybe food- if that’s allowed?”   
  
“I can make both of those happen. Sit tight for me, I’ll be right back.” He brushes a kiss across her forehead and strides from the room, every bit her man on a mission. It’s hard to remember, hard to even fathom pushing them away. The past has been buried under the adrenaline and fear and pain of Toronto- Darcy doesn’t let herself think about what will happen if…when it comes back to the surface.   
  
Instead, she forces herself to swing her legs out over the side of the bed. The call of the bathroom strikes her as the perfect way to literally run from her feelings. Er, well, hobble. Slowly.   
  
Her legs are wobbly and weak from disuse and her balance is thrown off, but she makes it to the toilet in one piece. It’s once she’s finished and has to navigate all of the steps to finish up that Darcy realizes how much energy this simple trip had sapped from her. Clint strides into the bedroom and calls her name softly as he approaches the open bathroom door.    
  
Darcy is leaning against the wall by the sink, steadfastly ignoring her reflection in the mirror and trying to work up the energy to move back to the bed. “Hey,” she greets as he takes in the situation. “Thought I could manage a bathroom trip on my own.”    
  
“Darce,” Clint sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “If you needed help- if you would rather Tash help with… We were right in the hall.” He sounds upset, unable to even finish a sentence through his exasperation.    
  
“I just wanted to try on my own; moving about freely hasn’t been an activity I’ve been able to participate in lately.” Darcy near growls. “I’m fully capable of stumbling my way to the bathroom.”   
  
“The kitten has claws,” Natasha comments idly from behind Clint and Darcy slumps back. It feels like a rebuke, though it was spoken in soft, calm tones. She ignores the tears that sting her eyes in response; files it all under “leftover duress from kidnapping ordeal” and pushes away from the wall.    
  
Natasha and Clint step back to clear the doorway as she shambles slowly towards the bed. Darcy stumbles a bit when the tile gives way to carpeting. Clint steps in to wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her. “I should have asked for help.” Darcy grouses as she leans against him. He takes that as permission and leads her carefully back to the bed, taking most of her weight on.    
  
After she settles herself against the pillows again, Natasha passes her a glass of green goop- a smoothie of some sort. “First your breakfast and then pain medication.”   
  
Darcy wrinkles her nose and looks plaintively up at Natasha, but finds no sympathy waiting there. Clint just smirks when she glances his way. She sighs and takes a tentative sip, only to find the green goop tastes of strawberries. “Oh!” Darcy breathes. “That’s good. Thanks, Tash.”   
  
Natasha accepts her praise with a quick nod and leaves the room. Clint hands her the tiny magical pain pills. “Drink a bit more before you take these. They’ll probably knock you out, so don’t fight it. You need the rest.”   
  
“Sure,” Darcy is beyond too tired to argue. She’d just as soon surrender to sleep than continue to deal with the last few days. After a few more gulps of smoothie, she swallows down the medication and snuggled back into the pillows.    
  
Clint softly brushes a wisp of hair off of her forehead and pressed his lips to where it had been. “Sleep well, kitten; we’re making chicken soup for you for when you wake up.”

 

~~

 

When she next wakes, the door is open out to the hallway beyond and she is alone. Darcy forces herself up into a sitting position, swallowing back the groan of stiff pain. It isn’t as cutting as it had been, just a dull throbbing to remind her she isn’t operating at 100% yet. Her forehead and right eye also throb and she wonders how bad the bruising will get. Note to self: don’t catch your body with your face and your shoulder, even if you’ve been knocked out by the goon squad.   
  
With slow careful movements, she pulls herself out of the bed and out into the hall. It’s slow going but she focuses on breathing steadily and maintaining a beatific expression. She’s fine, everything is fine, no worries.   
  
There’s a scent of chicken in the air and suddenly Darcy is starving.   
  
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Clint greets from the end of the hall. “I was just coming back to check on you.”   
  
“Is it time for soup?” She asks, hope shining through her words.   
  
He steps up next to her and guides her towards the kitchen with a hand at the small of her back. “It can definitely be time for soup, kitten.” Natasha sees them coming and pulls out bowls. She scoops out heaping ladles of soup to fill the three bowls on the counter. “What would you like to drink?” Clint asks as he pulls down three glasses. She notes with interest that there are only the three glasses in the cabinet, wonders if there were only three bowls.   
  
“Water, please.” He hands her the filled glass and she considers complaining over him making her carry something so light when clearly someone will have to carry her bowl for her— but it’s time to pick her battles and the glass is infinitely less messy than a bowl to carry one-handed. There’s a nice breakfast nook with a small table that Natasha begins to set with actual facts fabric napkins and spoons. She follows and sits in the seat Natasha pulls out for her.   
  
Clint follows with two bowls of soup which he places in front of Darcy and at one of the empty seats. Natasha returns with her bowl of soup, passing Clint as he returns for their glasses. While Darcy had chosen water, Natasha and Clint have what looks to be an iced green tea. She waits just until they’ve both take their seats before picking up the spoon to politely shovel soup in her mouth.   
  
“Slower,” Natasha admonishes with a hand on her knee. She removes the touch as soon as Darcy looks up, turns to her own bowl. Darcy slows down, savoring the next spoonful and wondering when Natasha will feel comfortable touching her again. It takes conscious effort to resist shoving spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, but she manages to maintain a sedate pace. And it’s a good thing she does. Her stomach protests it’s fullness when there’s still half a bowl left in front of her.   
  
Darcy stands and slowly makes her way back to the kitchen carrying her bowl. She sets it by the sink, unsure if she should save the rest for later or simply dump it out. She decides she’s too tired to worry over it. There’s no part of her that wants to retreat back to the bedroom though. Darcy returns to the table and grabs her water glass.   
  
“Want to watch a movie?” Clint asks as he stands with his bowl and glass.   
  
“Sounds perfect.” Darcy grins. That’s the perfect activity to do when you’re tired but not ready to surrender to sleep. She wanders out to their sofa, sinking into the cushion right smack in the middle and waiting for them to join her. Clint comes out first, flipping the television on to a streaming service.   
  
“No horror movies, right?” Clint scrolls past the genre and on to action movies.   
  
“Yeah, something calmer would be nice.” He scrolls on to comedies and they both pause to read the titles. They’ve decided on two possibilities when Natasha joins them as tiebreaker. When Clint starts the film, Darcy pulls her legs up onto the couch and leans her head against Natasha’s shoulder. The other woman stiffens but eventually relaxes into the contact without objection.   
  
Sometime later, she is startled awake by Clint shifting her into his arms. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s get you to bed.” Darcy is too tired to even protest, asleep again before her head hits the pillows.   
  
  
~   
  
  
Darcy woke up annoyed. Her hair wouldn’t stay out of her face, her robe wouldn’t stay tied, the strap of the sling itched where it dug into her shoulder. She scowls through the pain as she threw herself out of bed and stumbled her way to the kitchen. If she searches out Clint and Natasha, maybe they can distract her from her dark mood, or at least that’s her hope.   
  
Clint and Natasha were hovering in the kitchen, Clint munching on an apple leaning on the counter. When she enters, he looked up with a smile. “Hey, kitten, good morning!” He reaches for a coffee cup beside him on the table, from her favorite coffee shop two blocks away. “Natasha got you some coffee.”   
  
She takes it from him and the sweet brew brings a tiny smile to her face. “Mocha, my favorite.” Darcy rises over the wave of awkward and wraps Natasha in a one-armed hug that is briefly returned before Natasha pulls away to busy herself on the other end of the room.   
  
“Did you happen to bring any other clothes for me, Clint?” Darcy brushes aside the hurt she feels over Natasha continuing to avoid her. “I mean, I’m rocking my cosplay as The Dude, but I’d love to feel like a normal human person for a bit.”   
  
“Sure, I grabbed a knit dress that might be easiest to get on one-handed. First let’s get a muffin and meds in you, ‘kay?” Darcy accepts the muffin and eats it while leaning against the counter, just as it seems both Natasha and Clint had done. When she’s finished and has swallowed down her pills with the last swallows of lukewarm coffee, Clint leads the way back to the bedroom and opens the middle drawer of the long dresser against the wall. He pulls out her green knit dress, a trusty companion since her college days now comfortably faded to an almost mossy color.   
  
Darcy unlatches her sling and carefully pulls it off and sets it on the bed. She slips her good arm out of the robe and pulls it slowly off her arm, keeping it folded against her as much as possible, until she stands naked before Clint. His eyes sweep over her body, lingering on each bruise and scrape, cataloging them before seeming to shake himself and stepping forward with the dress held out before him.   
  
“It’ll probably be easiest to slide it over your injured side before pulling it on all the way.” Darcy nods and slowly pulls it on, up and over her injured shoulder. With a hiss of breath, she finally pulls it all the way on, resisting the urge to curse at the pulling on her shoulder as she maneuvers it into place. Clint pulls out a pair of her panties, red and lacy because they were always his favorites. He helps her step into them, settles them snugly against her skin with only the slightest brush of his fingers.   
  
Clint helps her get the sling back in place, then arranges her hair to fall over her shoulder, the action so achingly familiar. “There, perfect.” He whispers before stepping away. There’s an awkward moment, a frisson in the air between them, before he scratches the back of his neck with a “Well, then.” Clint turns and walks from the room, Darcy following slowly behind.   
  
~   
  
Tony Stark is in the living room and he has come bearing gifts. “Hey, Mouthy. How ya feelin’?” he asks as she enters the room behind Clint.   
  
“Better, thanks.” She goes to shrug and stops herself before making the move.   
  
“So we recovered some personal items of yours. Unfortunately, your phone was smashed  but with the help of JARVIS, I think most all of your data should have transferred to this prototype I’ve been playing around with.” Tony puts an obnoxiously shiny red phone on the arm of the sofa.   
  
Darcy takes the phone, lowers herself into the seat and taps at the screen, watching it light up with a picture of Tony as Iron Man. “Prototype?” She questions as she starts to go through the contacts and pictures saved on the phone.   
  
“Well, it shouldn’t explode or anything but it’s not ready for public consumption. Should keep you in contact with everyone in any case.” He shrugs for her. “Also, found your wallet and your bracelet.” Those items he pulls from his pocket and sort of dumps them on the cushion next to her.   
  
She grabs at the bracelet, slipping the leather onto her wrist using her teeth to tighten it around her good wrist.   
  
“I made some improvements to the tracking system. Those beads are my added enhancements.” Tony points out the three small silver beads on either side of the engraved metal plate.   
  
Darcy freezes, her brain trying to wrap around what Tony had said. “The tracking system?” she questions lightly, her wrist in mid-air, hovering above her lap.   
  
“Yeah; Tash had a great chip embedded in the plate but if she isn’t available to log into her system…. well, I added a fail safe so if there’s ever a…. well, the next time we won’t have to wait for Clint to get in contact with her before we find you.” Darcy stares at the bracelet for a beat too long and the moment goes awkward. “Uh, safety first and all that…” Tony looks around and notices that both Clint and Natasha are frozen staring down at Darcy. “I’ll just be ….going now.” No one responds as he turns tail and leaves the stifling room.   
  
Her thoughts are freewheeling and most of them are screaming out angrily. “You used your gift to track me?” She looks up and meets Natasha’s gaze.   
  
“Yes.” The spy’s voice is steady, gaze unwavering.   
  
“How could you?” Her voice catches, and it’s anger that tightens in her throat- anger that burns at the corner of her eyes. “Am I just another mission? Another set of data to track for you?” Natasha shows no hint of emotion and Darcy can’t take it so she swings to glare at Clint. “Did you support this? After everything we’ve been through?”   
  
Clint clinches his jaw but holds his ground. He meets her glare with a pained look but he doesn’t answer. Darcy tries to focus on breathing, tries not to wonder what other spy tricks may have been used on her. Cameras in the apartment? Apps on her phone? Where’s their line, here, if tracking her every move was acceptable? Her thoughts are running away with her and it’s hard not to dissolve straight into panic at this betrayal.    
  
It’s Natasha who breaks the silence, sitting down on the couch near Darcy.   
  
“The thought of you being taken, of losing you… it would ruin Clint. It would destroy us. You are important; a treasure to protect.” Natasha’s eyes are bright. “I made the decision to embed a tracker without telling Clint. He didn’t even know about it until he reached out to tell me you had been taken. If I had… oh,  _ kotyonok _ , if I had been honest about it, you would have been found immediately. You wouldn’t have suffered.”   
  
“There’s so very much there to unpack, but the only thing I need to know right now is what other lines have you crossed?” She hiccups, a sure sign she’s losing the battle against her tears. “Are there cameras in my bedroom? Have you bugged my apartment- my phone?”   
  
Natasha doesn’t protest, isn’t pleading her case with anything other than calmly stated words. It’s infuriating. “I only meant to protect you, save you from exactly what happened in Toronto.”   
  
Darcy huffs a sardonic laugh. “It didn’t work.”   
  
“I know. It’s my fault.” Again, there’s no inflection in Natasha’s voice, just clear statement of fact.   
  
“Of course it’s not your fault. God, Tash, you didn’t kidnap us.” Darcy springs up from the couch, sucks in a breath at the momentary vertigo that rolls over her at the movement. “I need to….” She turns and walks down the hall and back to the bedroom, she’s been staying in. The door doesn’t have a lock, but she hopes that by closing it they’ll both give her time to just…freak out a little. Freaking out probably won’t help anything, probably won’t make her feel any better, but it’s all she can think to do. She paces, wishing briefly for a pedometer to count how many miles she wears away on the carpet.   
  
There are tears drying on her face, maybe of sadness and maybe of anger but either way, it’s frustrating as there aren’t any tissues in the sparse room. She goes into the bathroom and awkwardly squats to grab a washcloth from under the sink. It’s awkward trying to wash her face but she manages it without getting the entire front of her dress wet.   
  
It takes a bit of flailing around like a one-armed paper-hanger, but she manages to cocoon herself in the blankets. Her shiny new phone plays cat videos as well as any laptop and she streams with abandon, escapism being the best medicine for her current emotional trauma. Yay life!   
  
~   
  
Darcy wakes from her nap at a light knock on the door. There are Teletubbies dancing on her phone where it lays, resting on her boobs. It appears the auto-play function had taken her on some hellish journey from purring kittens to dancing….whatever they were, actually.   
  
“Darcy?” Clint pokes his head in and Darcy blinks, remembering belatedly the knock that had woken her. “I come with gifts of food. Can I come in?”   
  
“Yeah,” she agrees, pulling herself to sit up against the pillows. Clint comes in with an honest-to-goodness tray, with two bowls of soup and two grilled cheese sandwiches and two cans of soda. There’s an innocuous pill on a napkin as well, and Darcy admits to herself that she almost craves the fog from the next round of pain pills in the face of her emotions. Almost.   
  
“Thought we could have a mini picnic, maybe talk?” Clint stands by the bed, hovering, waiting for her approval. At her ‘okay,’ he sets the tray down at the end of the bed and sits on it next to her.   
  
Darcy grabs at the sandwich and bites into it. It’s crunchy and melty, and just what she wants after forever of not eating real food. “MMM, this is perfect.”   
  
“I didn’t know about the tracker.” Clint dives right in as he grabs a bowl of soup to set in his lap. “I wish I had known, we could have gotten to you much faster if I had known.”   
  
“I believe you. And I’m not dumb enough to wish there hadn’t been a tracker. I know you guys had pretty sparse leads to go on.” Darcy takes a deep breath. “But it’s been there this whole time, on my wrist, proof she doesn’t trust me. Proof I’m just another set of data, and it hurts. A lot. More than I expected.”   
  
“It’s not a trust thing.” Darcy is a dismissive deflating balloon,  _ pssssh _ . “Really, Darce. It’s not.”   
  
“What, exactly, do you think it is then?” she tries for nonchalant, but mostly comes across desperate for an explanation that doesn’t mean… well, that didn’t spell the end of her relationship with Natasha.   
  
“An insurance policy, if you’re a cynic. Protection for you, if you can see it that way.” Clint sighs into the soup spoon. “In our line of work, you learn to safeguard the things you need to survive. Food, water, weapons…. the people you love. Everything has to be closely guarded and protected against all possible outcomes. This was Natasha’s way of making sure you were safe, not of keeping tabs on you.”   
  
Darcy nods once, not in agreement but because she has nothing to say, can’t think of anything else to come back with. They eat in silence for three bites, four bites, forever by Darcy’s count, before Clint speaks again.   
  
“I could boot up the laptop; we could watch trashy TV in bed?” he offers.   
  
“Yes, please.” And he pulls up Outrageous Acts of Science. They eat and cuddle and ignore anything the real world has to offer for the next four hours. Darcy feels sleep pull at her towards the middle of an episode and gives up on forcing herself to stay awake. She turns into Clint’s side, head tucked into his chest, her injured side propped up by a spare pillow and Clint’s arm around her. She’s asleep before the credits roll and Clint is more than content to just hold her and let the next episode auto-play.   
  
~   
  
The laptop screen is dark, as is the room when Darcy awakens. Clint still holds her, but even the light brush of his fingers against her upper arm has pain throbbing in her shoulder. She sits up slowly and scoots out of bed.   
  
Clint blinks up at her blearily, “Come back to bed?” and boy, she most certainly wants to right then and there.   
  
“Pain pills first and then I will.” He starts to sit up but she waves him off with her good arm. “I can do this. Lay down, dude.” He lays back and throws an arm over his eyes as she tries to open the door and slip into the hall without making too much noise. Maybe he’ll fall asleep again by the time she gets back.   
  
The hall is also dark, though there’s a lamp on somewhere by the couch, casting a halo of light at the end of the walkway. She is briefly worried that Natasha will be sitting beneath the lamp, wonders if she’s ready to talk to her, but she doesn’t slow her steps. She’s got a mission and the throb of pain to keep her focused. The medication will hopefully send her straight back to bed, where it won’t matter that she’s stumbling through a fog in her brain.    
  
Her pills had last been in the kitchen, so Darcy aims for the counter. Natasha is not sitting on the couch, not that it matters, not that she hoped Natasha would still be awake. There on the counter is a leftover muffin from this morning next to a glass of water and her bottle of magical pain medication. Darcy manages a quick bite of the muffin before she gives in and swallows down the pills with the water.   
  
She picks at the muffin, spreading crumbs around. There’s a small chance that Clint set this all out before coming back with the soup, but this is more Natasha’s style. Silently taking care of her from the distance she thinks Darcy needs right now. Damn emotions. She’s got about a fifteen-minute length of time before Foggy Medicated Darcy takes over her brain. Hopefully, Darcy can manage to find Natasha and talk some things out before the loopiness cuts in.   
  
There hadn’t been much reason for her to explore the hallway past the door she’d been using as a bedroom, but now she sees there are a few more doors; at least three chances to find the room where Natasha is sleeping. When she tiptoes by her door, hoping Clint is firmly back in dreamland, a light under one of the doors comes on.   
  
Darcy aims for that door, meeting Natasha in the hall as the woman opens the door.   
  
“Darcy, are you okay?” Natasha’s question rolls right over Darcy’s timid “Can we talk?”   
  
“I’m fine. I just…want to talk to you, please?” Natasha steps back and gestures her into the bedroom. It’s smaller than the one Darcy has been in but looks much cozier. The blankets atop the bed are soft and inviting, the pillows extra fluffy. There aren’t any chairs, any surface she could sit on beyond the bed itself and at this point, Darcy is in it to win it. She hops up on the unmussed side of the bed and stretches her feet out.   
  
Natasha still stands by the door, holding it open. “You can leave it open. Or close it, whichever you’re comfortable with. I’m just here to apologize.” Darcy shrugs her good shoulder, grateful it only aches a little.   
  
“You really don’t have to do that.” Natasha sounds broken. Or maybe Darcy’s brain is just applying that emotion out of guilt. Natasha sounds as reserved as she does when giving a debriefing. Professional and almost dismissive. And if she’s using that tone with Darcy…. her gut clenches, rolling the guilt around. If Natasha is using Professional Unruffled Voice on her, then Darcy is no longer in her circle.   
  
“Of course I fucking do, Tash.” Darcy is not going to cry. She can feel the pain medicine beginning to make her thoughts fuzzy, she’s just got to get through this apology first. She has words that need saying and then she can leave Natasha’s room and go lick her wounds in private. Just got to get the words out, and then she’s free to run away. “Of course I need to apologize. I let panic cloud over everything I know about you, everything I love about us, and lashed out at you.”   
  
“Okay,” Natasha takes a step closer to her, still hovering at the door but that small movement to close the distance between them breaks open her dams.   
  
“I knew going into this that you had different views of the world than I did. I shouldn’t have lashed out after Tony dropped the bit about the bracelet having a tracking system. It was just a shock after such a long damn week.” Her eyes are wet, and she hopes briefly that she isn’t crying yet. Her thoughts are swirling, and if they got wet she might never find the right words to say in the jumble of her brain. Natasha feels like she’s closer, almost within reach- but still too far away. “Shoulda trusted you; know better. You’re my messed up spy people and I love you for your instincts even when it freaks me right the fuck on out.”   
  
Darcy holds out her good arm because dammit she needs to make sure Natasha is actually real and not just a drug-induced hallucination. The medication has definitely kicked in and she needs to get through this before she passes out. “Love you, Tash, so so sorry.”   
  
Natasha takes her hand and Darcy sighs in relief. This is real, this is happening. “‘Kay, I’ll get out of your way. Help me up? Sorry, I’ll leave you alone now.” She’s struggling to get to the edge of the bed but it feels like the blankets have wrapped around her body and are halting every forward movement.   
  
“Stop,  _ kotyonok _ .” The nickname alone stills Darcy, hope blooming in her chest. Maybe she hasn’t completely mucked everything up. “You must stay. You’ll fall on your face if you leave in this condition.”   
  
“Can’t stay. Can’t do that to you. Just need a little help back to the hallway. I’ma sleep out on the couch and let you have your space, okay? Don’t want to be a bother.”   
  
“You’re not a bother.” Natasha sits lightly on the mattress next to her. “Please, stay for me. I’ve had a hard time reassuring myself that you are here, whole and safe. I would like to hold you tonight.”   
  
“Yes, please.” Darcy agrees. She wants to stay; doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want to be without them. Her thoughts are fuzzy and jumbled and yet, they all yearn for comfort. When Natasha helps her move back and gets the blankets pulled up over her as Darcy hugs a pillow, her world settles from the jumbled mess of guilt and anxiety to focus in on one simple fact: Natasha wants her to stay. She’s asleep before Natasha can join her in bed. Natasha presses a kiss to Darcy’s temple and lays down to watch her sleep, before giving into dreams herself.   
  
~   
  
Clint wakes her up briefly a few hours later, sliding into bed beside her. She shifts slowly until she is backed against Natasha, facing Clint. Sandwiched between her spies and perfectly safe. She allows herself to snuggle into Clint’s chest before slipping back into sleep.   
  
~


	3. Roots bare, fragile and free

Darcy wakes to find Natasha staring at her. “Good morning,” she greets, stretching slightly against Clint, who is pressed up against her side.

“Good morning.” Natasha returns the greeting, shifting to sit up. “You should come with me down to the cafe. We can get breakfast and bring it up to Clint.” Darcy winces. She doesn’t want to face anything outside of these doors. But… She will have to eventually. The cafe in the lobby of the building won’t be a large adventure. Just a quick trip down and back. Darcy sits up and shifts to the edge of the bed by Natasha.

“Okay, I think I can manage that- as long as there’s a donut in it for me.” Darcy scratches at her hair and tries to shove the mass out of her face one-handed.

“You’ll want a shower later, but I could braid your hair to get it out of your face.” Natasha offers. Darcy is nodding before she finishes speaking. Natasha grins- and it’s a flirty, quick grin that Darcy misses from the time Before- and then turns to locate a hair band. She climbs up on the bed behind Darcy, her front pressed to Darcy’s back as she quickly braids the hair up in a serviceable queue.

“Should I change?” Darcy asks when she feels Natasha banding up the end of the braid.

“Stand up and let me look at you.” Darcy stands up and takes a few steps away before turning back to the bed where Natasha still kneels.

“No, you look perfect.” Natasha is smiling at her again and it heats Darcy’s face with pride.

“Feel like you’re just saying that, but thanks.” Darcy sits back on the edge of the bed as Natasha slips on slacks and a cardigan over her sleep tank. It was actual facts hard for Darcy to step outside of the safe haven of their apartment, and the elevator ride feels like torture. Natasha holds her hand the entire way down.

“You’re doing great, kotyonok. We’re almost to the cafe. Shall we get Clint a croissant or a bear claw?” Natasha was clearly keeping up a stream of conversation to keep Darcy’s attention on her, but it works. Aside from a residual tension in her bones, Darcy doesn’t feel like running back into the elevator and hiding from the clumps of strangers milling about the lobby. They manage to make their order and get halfway back to the elevators before someone screeches in delighted surprise and Darcy drops two of the coffees in the cardboard tray they’d been slipped in.

Natasha throws an arm around her and ushers her to an elevator bay, calling for JARVIS to get them to their floor as quickly as possible. Darcy barely has time to mourn her lost coffee before they are back at the apartment door.

“I’m sorry. I dropped the coffee.” Darcy walks into the apartment, but can’t come up with what she should do next. Curl up on the couch? Climb back in bed with Clint? Find money to somehow repay Natasha for the coffee she dropped?

“It’s okay. We have a coffee maker in the kitchen, I just wanted to get you out of the apartment.” Natasha has put down the bag of pastries on the counter and approaches Darcy with kind, concerned eyes. “Are you okay, kotyonok?”

“Just embarrassed.” Darcy makes a half shrug. “It was just somebody being happy and I jumped like they fired a gun.”

“No need to be embarrassed. You are healing; you need to give yourself room for it.” Natasha brushes a strand of hair back from Darcy’s face. “Come, let’s wake Clint up with his treats and then he can help you bathe.”

“Oh, I thought I’d just hop in the shower. Might be quicker?” Darcy comments as she follows Natasha to the hallway.

Natasha turns back to her. “Just as you are healing, Clint is healing as well. He thought you were lost to him. Let him take care of you, please. He needs it and I think it would do you good to be pampered as well.”

“Okay,” Darcy agrees, because who doesn’t enjoy a little pampering every now and then?

They enter the bedroom and find Clint reading a tattered paperback, sitting up in bed. “Good morning girls,” he greets with a lazy smile.

Natasha hands him the remaining coffee and the bag of pastries. “Darcy and I have brought you breakfast in bed and for this gift, we expect to be treated like queens for the rest of the week. That’s the deal.”

“I accept. Come and sit with me, oh most lovely of lovelies.” Clint mock bows from his seated position. Natasha helps Darcy get settled before retreating to the kitchen to make two mugs of coffee for herself and Darcy. Clint lays out a napkin and pulls out the assorted pastries, offering Darcy her pick of the available delights.

“After we eat, could you help me take a bath? I’m still not steady with this whole one arm thing.” Darcy asks and then takes a bite of donut to hide her nerves. It feels like an intimate ask to make, and she’s not sure she deserves intimacy with Clint just yet. But Natasha had said…

“Of course I can help. Tash has this super luxe body wash I like to steal sometimes. We’ll steal you some if you want. Should we do that after we eat?” Clint offers and grabs his own pastry to devour.

Darcy nods. “That works.”

Natasha returns with steaming mugs of coffee and takes her place at the foot of the bed, the pastries between them all. Darcy sips at her coffee and lets the warmth seep through her.

 

~

 

Natasha changes into skintight workout clothes after they finish eating. Darcy and Clint lounge on the bed watching as she gets ready; Darcy wonders if it’s not an invasion of privacy in some way that she’s here gawking but Natasha doesn’t ask her to leave. Natasha presses a kiss to both of their heads before running out to go running.

“Now seems like the perfect time for that bath,” Clint comments idly, running a hand through his hair. Darcy shifts to sit up and Clint comes around the bed to help leverage her up.

“You like it near boiling, right? I’m pretty sure you and Natasha both try to make human soup when you take baths.” Clint leads the way into the bathroom and bends to fiddle with the taps.

“Human Soup- is that what they serve at that bodega you love?” Darcy quips as she removes her sling. Clint snorts and Darcy gives into a laugh. “Yes, please. Some do in fact like it hot.”

“Anything for you, kitten.” Clint’s answer has her laughing again. With the sling off, Darcy tries to tackle her dress. She gets it up over her hips one armed and then stalls, unsure how best to remove it. It seems to her no matter which way she moves, she runs the risk of twisting and shifting the injured shoulder. There’s no part of her that desires that pain, and a still smaller part of her that’s starting to chafe at being medicated for so much of the day because of the pain.

Clint finishes setting the taps to the perfect hot and stands to face her. She has one hand fisted in the hem of her dress, the other pressed against her chest, pretending it’s still supported by the sling. He tilts his head and takes her in but makes no move to approach her.

Darcy takes a deep breath. She both loves and hates that Clint and Natasha are making her ask for the things she needs. It would be so much easier if they just did the things she needed, but by making her ask, they’ve returned a feeling of control Darcy hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“Could you help with my dress?” she asks, letting the hem fall.

“Of course, kitten. Whatever you need.” He takes his time in pulling the dress up to her hips before helping her slide her good arm out. She hisses out a short breath as he eases it over her injured shoulder but all in all it definitely doesn’t hurt as much as she had anticipated. Clint places her dress on the counter as she shimmies out of her panties.

He then stands next to the tub and helps steady her as she climbs in the water.

“Perfect temperature,” She breathes as she settles in.

“Here’s the loofah and the body wash. Do you want to just call me when you’re done and I can help you out?” Clint passes her the fluffed loofah and body wash and stands there waiting for her decision.

“You’d better stay just in case. Natasha had to help me a lot- I’ll need you to do my back at the very least.” She blinks a smile up to him as she soaps up the loofah. It winds up being that she “needs” help with basically every aspect of bathing. Truly, her shoulder does pull every time she stretches either arm, but Clint can’t bear even the tiniest of flinches on her face and he quickly takes over soaping her body. Darcy relaxes into the attention, enjoys the feeling of his hands on her body again, even if he is being very careful to keep his movements clinical and not sexual in the least.

When her body is clean and only her hair is left he stands up. “How did Natasha manage with your hair?”

“She used a cup and got clean water from the tap.” Darcy offers. “She’s magic, of course.”

“Aww, Darcy, No. I’ll make such a damn mess with a cup full of water.” Clint sighs and turns towards the counter, digging in one of the sink cabinets to find a large plastic cup. He turns and considers her lounging in the cooling water for a minute. Darcy stares back at him, waiting for him to work through whatever it is he has focused on.

She’s just about to offer that she could manage one armed in the shower if he helps her up when he finally speaks. “Okay, I’ve got a plan.”

“Let’s hear it,” she grins.

“First, I’m going to take off my pants.” Clint gestures to his waistband.

Darcy gapes, “Well, that’s one way to start a plan.”

“So I can sit on the edge of the tub with my feet in the water, Darce. Work with me here.” he puts his hands on his hips and Darcy gives into the giggles.

“That sounds perfect. Come on in,” Darcy shifts forwards in the tub to give Clint room. The shampoo is passed to Darcy to hold. He throws a leg over the edge, settling himself down to sit behind her on the tub edge, his legs bracketing her shoulders. Clint gently undoes the braid Natasha had deftly put in earlier and combs his fingers through it. Darcy closes her eyes as he runs the tap and pours the warm water over her head. As with Natasha, he is very careful to not let any water drip into her face.

He spends more time than Natasha shampooing her hair, massaging his fingers across her scalp and running his fingers down through her strands. She lets herself go a little mesmerized at the mini scalp massage, only coming back to her senses when Clint speaks.

“Okay, your hair is clean.” He leans back and surveys his clothes. “And I am a mess. Here, let me help you out.” Clint steps carefully onto the bath mat and Darcy can finally see what he means.

“Clint, you’re soaked.” She laughs as she shifts up onto her knees. He grabs her, awkwardly, but still manages to support her as she steps out of the tub with minimal discomfort.

“Yeah, I should have just stripped for this operation; flawed judgment call on me.” Clint shrugs. “Now we both need to change.” He strips off his shirt and throws it atop her green dress. Darcy definitely does not take in her fill of his bare chest. He wraps a towel around her shoulders, grabs a quick kiss then strides into the bedroom in his wet boxer briefs. Darcy follows behind him, holding the towel to her chest with her good arm. He’s fast enough that he’s pulling on a fresh pair of boxers as she enters the bedroom, but she does enjoy watching the muscles in his back as he pulls a fresh shirt over his head.

When he bends down to rummage for a pair of knit pants, she gives in to the urge to wolf whistle. “Stop objectifying me, kitten.” He grouses. “Button up shirt and knit pants or another dress?”

“Dress, I think.” She drops the towel and Clint helps her into a tank dress she isn’t sure she actually owns. “Whose dress is this?”

“Yours.” Darcy quirks an eyebrow at Clint’s answer. “Okay, it’s yours now. Natasha asked JARVIS to have a few more knit dresses ordered for you while you’re healing.”

“That’s…amazingly sweet. And very comfy. JARVIS has good taste.” Darcy gave an experimental- and careful- twirl. “Very nice.”

“You look great. Let’s go watch Natasha run the track in the gym.” Clint held out a hand to her.

“Are you both trying to get me out of the apartment?” Darcy asks even as she reaches out to take his hand.

“Yup. We thought it would help if you got out in the Tower for a bit each day. Natasha wants to take you out to breakfast next if you’re up to it. there’s a cafe nearby we haven’t been to in a bit.” Clint leads the way to the front door, where they both slip on shoes.

“Oh, that sounds…like a plan.” Darcy comments noncommittally as they head to the elevator. The gym Natasha runs in is only a few floors away. Darcy tries to focus on Clint and the familiar surroundings, but yet again she feels off-kilter as they travel outside of their apartment. Clint also holds her hand as Natasha had, anchoring her to the here and now and not letting Panic!Darcy take over.

They enter the gym as Natasha passes the area nearest to the door. She tosses a wave at them as she passes, an economical raising of her hand with no finger waggling. Clint leads her over to a bench against the wall and they sit and watch as Natasha finishes two more laps before grabbing a towel and heading over to them. She’s glistening but other than that looks barely rumpled. It’s ridiculous and amazing all at once.

“I feel like cookies.” Natasha greets them as soon as she’s within distance. “Let’s make cookies.”

“Okay, this is definitely some kind of rehearsed plan, man.” Darcy hisses to Clint. Louder, to Natasha, she asks, “What kind of cookies? Do you even having baking materials in that apartment?”

“No, but we could all go to the store and pick out whatever ingredients you want,” Clint says cautiously.

Darcy feels the tension at the base of her spine; must make some sort of face to give away her discomfort because Natasha shakes her head. “Not necessary. If I have a list, I can pick up whatever is needed faster than all of us going.”

“Thank you,” Darcy isn’t an idiot. She recognizes what was clearly a save on Natasha’s part. They’re both working to push her to regain normalcy but, thankfully, not too fast. “We’ll make them as soon as you get back. Should we go classic like chocolate chip?”

“Lemon sugar cookies?” Clint suggests with a hopeful look.

Natasha smiles and agrees, neatly tossing the towel into a bin by the door over Clint’s head. “That’s the one. I’ll run to the store. Any requests for dinner?”

“We’ve got the makings of spaghetti, I figured I’d make that if Darcy was up for eating it.” Clint turns to look at Darcy who has no objections. “Okay, we’ve got a plan. You going to shower before going?”

“No, I’d prefer to go and get back sooner.” She presses a kiss to Darcy’s cheek, steps into Clint’s arms for a longer kiss before leaving the gym.

~

Clint also has the makings for meatballs, not that either one of them is any good at it. They’ve got a tray of lopsided meatlumps in the oven and a nice marinara bubbling on the stove when Natasha returns. Darcy maintains that one-handed meatball rolling will, of course, lead to lumpy meat things and that truly it’s Clint’s fault when Natasha judges the sizzling offering on the trays.

The lumpy lumps are plunked into the sauce to simmer and mingle a bit while Darcy and Natasha discuss the baking supplies she’s brought back. They lay out the ingredients and create a mini mise en place for after they eat. Clint dumps the pasta into a strainer and declares it time for dinner.

Pasta is not easy to eat one-handed, but Darcy gives it a good try. She’s a mess by the time she’s eaten her fill. Wiping her mouth with a napkin means discovering she’s had sauce covering her face the entire meal. She looks up in dismay to see Natasha smiling down into her plate and Clint openly smiling at her.

“It was adorable,” he comments and twirls his fork in the noodles like a pro.

“Shut up.” She grumbles and stands up to carry her plate into the kitchen.

Natasha follows her into the kitchen and picks up her medicine from the counter. “It’s time to take another pill, _kotyonok_. Then you can show me how to make the cookies.”

“No,” Darcy shakes her head, resists the urge to step back. Natasha quirks an eyebrow in what clearly is a demand for an explanation and Darcy flushes. “I mean, I’m ready to make cookies but I don’t need the medication. No, thank you,” The more she considers it, the more she hates the fog that the pills bring. If something were to happen right now while she was injured, she would already be at a disadvantage. Pain sucks, but not having her full faculties should a great impending doom befall them scares her to her core.

When Natasha just stands there, studying her with an inscrutable expression, Darcy starts to wilt. Clint enters behind Natasha, carrying two plates and his glass. He deposits the bundle in the sink then turns and notices the stand-off between the two women.

She opens her mouth- perhaps to explain, though she was trying to take ownership for her own body by making a decision and not offering excuses- but Natasha beats her to the punch. “Darcy is refusing to take her pain medication.”

“Tattle-tale!” Darcy breathes out but doesn’t offer anything in the way of an excuse when Clint looks her way. She practices her spy face, breathing deep and trying to maintain Natasha levels of impassivity. Clint doesn’t bother with Spy Face in front of her. He goes straight from exasperation to resigned curiosity.

“Can you tell me why?” He asks, all patience and understanding and his annoying caring eyes.

“My body, my choice.” She snaps. Then forces herself to loosen her hand from the defensive fist it has formed, breathes her frustration out. Clint and Natasha don’t deserve her lashing out; they’re just following the doctor’s advice. “Look, they make me too foggy to think and I’m tired of it. Besides, I’m not even in pain right now. I’m fine, okay?”

“You need to stay ahead of the pain,” Natasha commented. “before it gets worse.”

“She has a point,” Clint confirmed looking at Darcy. “Would you take some Tylenol instead?”

“Yes,” Darcy grasps at the compromise. Tylenol she could work with; it wouldn’t make her foggy.

“The doctor did say she could use over the counter pain meds, right?” Clint asks Natasha, every bit a hostage negotiator. Natasha nods. “Perfect. Darcy, let me go get you the Tylenol. You both can get started on the cookies.”

Darcy fiddles with the bowl next to her, avoiding looking at Natasha.

“What should we start with?” Natasha asks, coming to stand next to her, the medicine bottle left on the far side of the counter. Darcy walks her through measuring the dry ingredients, accepting the pills from Clint when he returns and putting him to work zesting a lemon.

They get the cookies in the oven and settle on the couch together. Natasha reading, Clint scrolling around on a handheld tablet, and Darcy flipping through the channels. She settles on a marathon of rom coms, confident the other two won’t mind her choice as they are otherwise occupied.

She gives up on following the plot of the second movie and texts Jane.

_You okay?_

 

Jane’s responses come quickly.

_I’m good. River transferred to a hospital closer to her home this morning._

_Thor has been driving me crazy._

_He’s too protective._

_Hasn’t let me leave the tower since we got here._

 

_Might be for the best, we did just get kidnapped_. Darcy shakes her head at her friend.

 

_Not because of anything we did. Not sure there’s a justified reason for remaining so cautious._

_How are you doing?_

 

_Fine. Little sore, but okay._

 

_Going out to dinner with Thor tonight, want to come with? Convinced him it would be good._

 

Darcy considers for barely a moment before lying. _Already have plans with Clint and Tash. Have fun!_

 

Jane responds with a heart emoji, her signal that she’s moving on from the conversation and Darcy puts her phone down. She tries to focus back on the movie but there’s just a tiny shred of guilt gnawing at her. Maybe she should go out with Jane and Thor, put effort into getting back to normalcy instead of hiding out with Clint and Natasha. Darcy chews at her lip, considering her options while staring blankly at the television.

“How’s Jane?” Clint asks from beside her and Darcy jumps.

“Just fine. She and Thor are going out for dinner tonight.” Darcy trails a finger over the shiny back of her phone.

“Did you want to go with them?” he sits up straighter, leaning forward, clearly thinking it would be a great idea for them all to go out for food.

“I, uh,” She stutters, searching for the words to say no.

“Going out as a group might be the best way to ease back into the world.” Natasha folds her book closed, her finger marking her place. “You’d be surrounded by friends.”

Clint places a hand on her knee, squeezing reassuringly. “I think you might enjoy getting out of the apartment for a bit. We don’t have to stay long; we can order appetizers and get entrees to go. Just a quick test run.” At her silence, he continues. “One hour; in and out. You can manage that.”

Darcy sighs, “Okay. Let me text her and find out where they’re going.”

~

Some part of her kind of hopes Jane will respond that she and Thor got distracted by sexy times and won’t be leaving the building after all. Unfortunately, Jane is all too excited to see her. They’re going to a taqueria that Jane prefers for the salsa and Thor prefers for the conversation with the staff. Natasha silently disappears down the hall, to lay out a dress for Darcy to wear she finds out when she wanders down the hall after Clint. Darcy adds their bracelet at the last minute. It feels like a Big Move, to put it back on, but mostly it helps her feel more at ease over tackling this night.

Once they are all dressed and ready to leave the apartment, Darcy feels a thread of anxiety begin in her core. She focuses on breathing, on putting one foot in front of the other, on not running back into the safe haven of the bedroom.

“Darcy!” Jane is screaming her name before the elevator doors even open completely. She wraps arms too tight around Darcy and squeezes.

Darcy hisses a pained breath out. “Janey!” She returns with muted enthusiasm. Jane links an arm through the uninjured, unslinged arm, pulling Darcy out of the elevator and to the front doors. She’s chatting on about the Tower, the amenities of staying in one of the suites afforded the Avengers. The fact that Tony Stark had invited her to his personal lab and let her examine some hush-hush project he was creating.

It is only the knowledge that Clint and Natasha linger at her back that keeps her from freezing in panic before they step through the large glass doors and onto the street. She even manages to murmur a few breezy “oh”s and “wow”s at the appropriate places in Jane’s stream of information.

“While we were gone, one of my articles was approved for publication,” Jane says as Thor holds the door to the restaurant for them. “The one on the ice crystals.”

Darcy laughs, a shrill near hysterical sound. _While we were gone_. Jane has now classified their kidnapping as one might a long and slightly inconvenient vacation. She is saved from response by the appearance of a host to lead them to their table. Darcy fumes for the short walk to their table, only realizing she’s glowering at everyone she passes when Natasha sweeps a hand down to rest at the small of her back. The contact snaps her out of her emotions and back into the present, the smell of the salsa and meats surrounding her.

She straightens her back, leaning into the touch in appreciation.

“Congratulations,” Natasha says with a smile as she pulls a chair out for Darcy and sits between them, a physical barrier between Jane’s enthusiasm and Darcy.

“It really is a coup. I’ve been fighting the boneheads on it for near a year.” Jane goes off into the whole story, relating her war with the men on the board. Darcy feels her shoulders hunching up to her ears, feels the pained pull at her collar as a result. She tries to breathe out and release her muscles but the tension stays.

Clint and Thor take the seats on the opposite side of the table and are conversing with the server- and ordering the menu twice over from the best she can hear. A bowl of guacamole is set in front of her and she focuses on bringing chips covered in green goop to her mouth. The more she chews, the less she has to speak.

The bowl empties and is replaced by a chicken quesadilla. Conversation flows around her but she makes no attempt to enter the fray; it’s enough that she isn’t running screaming from the restaurant.

How can Jane be so fine? How is it that Jane can sit there and discuss her paper as if they hadn’t just been rescued? They had been kidnapped, for the love of monkeys, wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of dedicated time to be messed up by that fact?

Darcy glares at the quesadilla and dumps a bowl of salsa on top of it. Using her fingers, she scoops up a now slightly soggy triangle to bite into. She makes it three bites into it before admitting the angry dumping of the salsa had felt good at the time but hadn’t improved her mood and had in fact destroyed the structural integrity of the tortilla.

Natasha smooths a hand over her knee, in a gesture so similar to Clint and so comforting Darcy loses herself in the moment.

Then she realizes that Natasha would most likely also bounce back from a trauma. The woman hardly ever seemed bothered and in fact seemed to thrive on action and conflict.

Darcy was a failure.

 

~

 

She excuses herself to the restroom, shooing away Clint’s worried look as she makes her way to the back of the restaurant. There’s a tinge of anxiety in venturing off alone, but there’s a building pressure of failure in her chest the longer she stays at the table. Darcy slams into the restroom and locks herself in the first stall. She can’t cross her arms, suddenly desperately wants that comfort. She settles for wrapping her good arm around the sling, helping to support her injured side. It works marginally well as a comfort .

The stall door in front of her blurs behind unshed tears. She’s a big brave dog, dammit. Eating at a damn restaurant should not cause an existential crisis.

She should be better.

She should be fine.

 

~

 

The door to the restroom slams open, startling Darcy into a crouch as she shrieks. The shriek is both in surprise and in pain as the automatic urge to crouch and make herself a smaller target pulls at her shoulder in such a way it feels like it is newly broken.

“Uh, sorry.” It’s a high pitched, young voice. “I didn’t mean to..ummm…” the voice trails off and she watches high tops dance anxiously by the door. “Should I get someone for you?”

“N-no. No, I’m fine.” Darcy slowly pulls herself up to stand. Gathers all of her frayed nerves together and manages to open the stall door. “Thought I saw a spider.” She throws over her shoulder at the girl, not making eye contact in the mirror as she washes her hand.

The girl disappears into the far stall and Darcy drags herself back out to the table, feeling sick.

Clint catches her eye from across the room, looking all the world like he’s just been staring that direction waiting for her return. He smiles and she focuses on making it back to the smile. Just a few more tables to pass until she’s there.

“Darcy!” Jane enthuses around a mouthful of chimichanga. “Look! We ordered the margaritas I promised you we’d have when we got out.” She gestures to the pitchers on the table full of frosty margarita. “I was just telling Clint about the new equipment Tony ordered for us. We can set it up on Monday.”

“Monday?” Darcy echoes dully.

“Sure! We’ve been away for so long, I’d like to get back into the swing of things. If you’re still staying at the Tower, our commute will be so short.” Jane goes on about traffic and commutes and breakfast options but Darcy is deaf to it all. A deafening scream of panic is ricocheting around her skull, drowning out every external input. Darcy is almost surprised to find she isn’t actually making the sound out loud.

What is wrong with Darcy’s brain that she is still so very messed up from their experience but Jane is ready to hop back into work?

Darcy closes her eyes, tries breathing steadily to calm her rising panic but it’s far too late.

“No!” It bursts out from her, the protest bringing the entire restaurant to a halt. She’s panting, her knuckles white on the back of her chair.

Clint is already up and standing at her side before she realizes he has moved. He tries to wrap her into his arms and she holds out her hand to stop him.

“No, I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.” Darcy turns to Jane. “I’m not okay. I can’t…”

She turns and runs on unsteady legs for the door.

 

~~

 

Pure adrenaline carries her from the restaurant and out into the darkened night. Darcy works her jaw from side to side, trying to loosen the tension holding there. She feels the calming presence of Natasha right behind her; doesn’t turn to confirm it, but knows she’s being followed on her way back to the Tower.

It’s comforting as the haze of adrenaline fades and the worry grows. Darcy palms the button for the elevator, worrying her lip with her teeth.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asks as the doors close behind Natasha. “Not a thing, _kotyonok_ ,” Natasha answers, meeting her gaze steadily.

“And yet!” Darcy waves her hand wildly in the air. “Here we are. How is Jane so…okay?”

How am I not is what she meant, but she was worried of what the answer might be.

“What makes you think she’s okay?” Natasha asks as she opens the apartment door.

“She’s planning on going back to work. She’s talking about everything like we never got kidnapped- like nothing ever happened!” Darcy flops down on the couch, hisses out a breath. “Janey is obviously okay.”

“Could she not be putting on a front so that Thor will not worry?” Natasha is in the kitchen, putting on a kettle it sounds like. Darcy stares sullenly at the blank television and rolls the idea over in her mind.

“Why would you think that?” Darcy huffs.

“She carries her stress in the corners of her mouth. She talks a good game, but she’s not perfectly okay.” The door opens and Clint comes in carrying a bag of to go boxes.

“Darce, are you okay?” He drops the bags on the couch and crouches next to her. The concern is near enough to break the tentative hold she has on her tears.

“No!” She clenches her hand. “Of course I’m not okay. And I’m even more not okay now that I’ve seen how very okay Jane is.”

“You can’t measure your health based on other people, kitten.” Clint runs a hand over her hair. “You have to move at your own pace.”

“How can I do that when Jane is expecting me to jump back into work? It’s only been a week, Clint, seven days since we were kidnapped by goons for no goddamn reason.”

“Is the problem that you’re not fine or that you’re having to pretend that everything is fine?” Clint asks and damn, that’s another existential crisis waiting to be had. She stares at him, trying to gather the shambles of her thoughts together. Natasha comes in with two mugs of tea.

“Can the answer be both?” Darcy pouts but accepts the mug of tea.

“Of course the answer can be both.” Clint moves to sit on the couch next to her.

“I thought I was making good…progress, I guess, until seeing Jane.” Darcy blows on the steam from the mug, wishes she could wrap both hands around the warmth. “I mean, when it was just you guys slowly pushing me on, it felt like everything was fine. I wish we hadn’t gone out tonight. I had been pretending everything was going to be fine. I’m just not strong enough to pretend in front of other people.” There’s a silence in response to her flood of words and she’s left feeling a bit naked in front of their gazes. She looks down at the mug in her lap rather than continue to face them as they process her emotional issues.

Finally, Clint breaks the silence. “What if I had a place we could go where you wouldn’t have to pretend?” Clint asks. Darcy just looks at him, because really? Does a place like that even exist?

“Clint,” Natasha cautions. “Don’t.”

“Tash, she needs to heal and we can help her.” Clint’s tone borders on anger and Darcy tenses. The tension fades when Clint sighs, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “All we can do is offer her the choice, okay?”

Darcy uses the ensuing silence as they have an annoying Spy Conversation with their eyes to sip at the tea.

She lasts a minute before she has to break in.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What choice?” Darcy puts the mug down on the side table and shifts to face Clint on the couch.

“I have property, a house we could go to that no one save Natasha has ever been to.” Darcy starts to interrupt because they’ve been friends for how long and he has never mentioned this before- but Clint holds up a hand and keeps explaining. “It’s meant to be a safe house, a place Tash and I can go if we’re injured badly enough to be immobile. It’s secure and remote and, trust me, it’s the perfect place to heal.”

“It is very remote. We would be there alone, Darcy.” Natasha adds. “It would just be us.”

“I’m… I’m not sure I would mind it just being us, Tash.” Darcy can’t answer the whole offer yet, is still turning it over in her head but for once in the last very confusing few months, she is very sure that she wants- and maybe needs- to be with Clint and Natasha.

“We could stay here,” Natasha tries once more and maybe it’s pure spite, but Darcy makes up her mind on the spot.

“Or we can go to a place where she can be hurt and be in pain and not have to pretend for anyone.” Clint is growing frustrated at Natasha’s honest attempts to give Darcy both sides of her choice here. Darcy puts a had on Clint’s knee.

“Clint,” she waits until his eyes meet hers. “I’d like to go to your secret house, please.” When the words sink in and Clint’s relief shines through his smile, she turns to look at Natasha. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Tash, but I think this is exactly what I need- and maybe more, what we need to heal.”

“Okay,” Natasha doesn’t smile but she’s lighter than she had been minutes before so Darcy considers it all a win.

“When do we leave?” Darcy asks. “And can somebody pack for me, because I think I will need to take those pain pills after all.”

~

It takes less time than Darcy had assumed for them to tie up everything and be ready to leave. Jane took the longest time to convince, but in the end, had wished Darcy well and promised to be available by phone should Darcy need her.

Natasha secures a car for them to drive in- or she perhaps owns it, Darcy didn’t question her beyond calling shotgun. Clint makes a few phone calls and declares everything ready on his end.

All that’s left is to say goodbye and head on out with their bags stacked in the trunk.

Half the Tower seems to have gathered in the garage to see them off. Jane, who can’t deal with goodbyes, hugs Darcy tighter than is strictly comfortable and then drags Thor off before the car starts.

Tony and Pepper have even come down to wish them well, though they seem to be in the midst of an argument as they walk up. Darcy busies herself with putting her purse in the passenger seat rather than wait and see if they would come over to say anything.

“You aren’t even going to check in with her before they leave?” Pepper hisses at Tony. She waits for two beats then spins around him to approach Darcy. “Look, I know this is your choice. Tony swears he heard you say you wanted to go. But, Darcy, if you change your mind, call me here and I will arrange transportation for you to come back. Any time of day; whenever you need me.” Pepper presses a business card into her hand and she’s just so genuinely concerned that Darcy wants to cry or laugh or hug the other woman.

“Thank you, Pepper. I think I’ll be fine but I appreciate you making sure I have an out if I need it.” She uses her good arm to pull the woman into an awkward lopsided hug and pretends she isn’t tearing up.

Finally, Natasha announces it is time for them to leave if they want to make good time. Clint presses a quick kiss to her forehead and helps her settle into her seat. Natasha takes the driver seat and turns to Darcy as Clint walks around the car to close the trunk.

“One last time, _kotyonok_. Are you sure this is what you need?” She asks.

Darcy smiles and reaches out to touch Natasha’s face. “This is exactly what I need, Tash.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of this story, but not the end of their story- if you catch my meaning.
> 
> I'm a big fan of happily ever afters, and I think with the majority of the panic and trauma behind them, the next and final installment will be full of the healing hurt/comfort I love to tiny little pieces.
> 
> Thank you for coming on this journey with me- and thanks a million for the encouraging words!


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